Loyalty
by Arsaem
Summary: Who says Destiny can't be changed? Fate seems determined to bring Mordred down, but he's just as determined to stop it. And he will do whatever it takes to prove his loyalty. "You're Emrys. If not you, then who shall I follow?" Season 5 AU


**Alright. I've been working on this monstrosity for quite a while now. Longest one-shot I've ever written, and I'm quite proud of it. I wrote this because I really liked Mordred's character and didn't like what the show did with him. His switch to evil didn't really make sense, even as revenge, and so much more could've been done with him. Also, I thought that it was kind of OOC of Merlin to be so cold towards him, even knowing his supposed 'destiny.' You would've thought that he'd learned his lesson with Morgana.**

 **Anyway, I wrote this with no pairings in mind (except for the Arwen bit but that's kind of obvious). I suppose you could see it as Merdred if you squint, but that was not my intention. Hope you enjoy it!**

 **Also, I messed with the order of events a bit in season 5, mostly just with the Disir. It just made a bit more sense to me than how it was done in the show.**

 **Edited on 4/18/2019**

* * *

 **Loyalty**

 _Enemy and ally is no longer clear. Fate has yet to be decided, Destiny no longer set in stone. The choice of one will affect us all, to hold or to save when it matters most. And we must await another day, for Arthur's Bane is yet to be known, and should death or redemption be unveiled, the Triple Goddess awaits her judgement._

The cold was a harsh thing, pressing and biting through such thin clothing. Mordred could feel the chill down to his very bones, a feeling that had settled over him ever since he came to this northern land, and hasn't left since. He did not envy the knights, in their metal armour, no doubt like ice on their skin, even if their capes were thick and warm. He could see the misery written clearly on their faces, exhausted from their trek through the snow and their previous work in Morgana's mine, shivering from the cold, wishing for nothing more than a hot meal and somewhere dry to sleep. Nights were spent huddled together as close as possible, since they had no other protection from the harsh wind. Fires were hard to build and even harder to maintain, and Mordred was sure at least one of them would've caught frostbite by now, if it weren't for Merlin. He had been discreet, but the Druid knew well every time the soft release of magic filled the air, heating their company just enough to prevent anything permanent.

That first day, Mordred kept to himself. He was unsure of his position in such an environment; not an enemy, but not necessarily a friend either. He saved Arthur's life (and Merlin's, but no one really knew that that had been his main intention), and he helped them escape Ismere. But he was also a stranger, and though Arthur remembered him as the lost, helpless boy he once saved all those years ago, he was nothing like that child now. There were questions in his eyes, questions threatening to leak out at any moment. What happened to you? Why were you with the slave traders? Where will you go now? And, most importantly: why did you save me? Arthur wasn't a fool, he knew that Mordred and Morgana always had a bond, and he no doubt thought that if it were a question of loyalty, he'd choose her over him any day. What he didn't know, and what Mordred will never say, is that he didn't choose him. Not exactly. Rather, he chose Emrys. The one hope for magic and peace in Camelot and across Albion.

It wasn't until the third day that Mordred was fully accepted into the knights' company. Arthur spoke with him some, avoiding some subjects they don't need to broach just yet, and thanked him for his untimely help against Morgana. Merlin didn't speak to him once, but Mordred could feel his stare, always there, watching his every move, just waiting for him to strike.

He'll be waiting forever.

On the fourth night of leaving Ismere, they had finally come south enough that the snow was only an inch or so on the ground. Dry wood was found, and several fires were built for the men to huddle around, laughing easily for the first time since their imprisonment, enjoying the warm food they haven't had in days. It was on this night that Merlin sat by himself, contemplating everything that has happened since leaving on this adventure, and giving Mordred the chance to approach him.

"Fire not warm enough?" Mordred challenged, noting the rise in temperature as he sat beside Merlin. He wondered if he even noticed that he was heating the air with his magic, or if he did it subconsciously, just another casual thing that would be difficult or even impossible for others.

"I could say the same for you," Merlin answered, shifting a bit so that Mordred could settle beside him.

"There's only so much of Gwaine's stories one can take before they must cleanse their mind," was his reply, earning a low snort. Mordred waited a moment, then asked, "What troubles you, Emrys?" The use of Merlin's Druid name made him perfectly clear on what, exactly, he was asking about, and left no room for feigned ignorance or denial.

Merlin chose to answer with an inquiry of his own. "Why are you here?"

And there were so many implications with just that one question. Mordred took the easy route and said, "I'm not sure yet." Truthful, but not really honest.

Perhaps Merlin understood more than Mordred intended, for he didn't ask further. "Why did you save Arthur?" he said instead. And that really was the _real_ question, wasn't it, because not even Merlin truly understood Mordred's loyalties.

"He saved my life," Mordred repeated from that night with the slave traders.

"So did Morgana." It was a challenge, one he had to be cautious with, lest he lose Merlin's trust completely with no hope of getting it back.

Mordred pursed his lips, careful with his next words. "Morgana's...changed. I've heard, of course, of what's happened to her. But I didn't think she'd really be so…"

"Insane?" Merlin offered, and even he winced at the word. They both remembered a time when she was full of nothing but compassion and love.

"Yes," Mordred agreed, closing his eyes as he recalled her harsh words. _"I want his annihilation, Mordred. I want to put his head on a spike and watch as the crows feast on his eyes!"_

"What will you do now, then?" Merlin asked, and Mordred reopened his eyes. When he was silent, he added, "Return to the Druids?"

Mordred hesitated in his answer. "I'm not sure I am welcome anymore."

He could feel Merlin's surprise even before he said, "But they're your people." His brow was knit up in confusion, probably recalling the spiral tattoo that was boldly inked on Mordred's collarbone.

"And I have not been entirely loyal," he answered with a sigh. "The elders always warned me that I was driving myself down a dark path. They insisted that Morgana was lost to evil, but I didn't want to believe them. And then when I heard that she was in Ismere- well, I had to see for myself. They pleaded with me not to go. They told me that if I did, then I would be faced with a choice I wouldn't want to make."

"Betraying Morgana?" Merlin guessed.

"Or betraying Arthur," he agreed. "And, more importantly, betraying you."

Merlin huffed and rolled his eyes. "I thought you hated me."

Mordred gave a humorless chuckle. "The grudge of a mere child. I've had time to think over what happened then with Alvarr, and I see now that I probably deserved what you did after being so easily manipulated."

"I didn't want to actually hurt you," Merlin told him, feeling the need for defense despite what Mordred said. "And I didn't want the guards to capture you either. I just...I don't know. I acted without thinking."

"And don't we all," Mordred agreed wearily.

Merlin nodded, the hints of a smile on his face before abruptly falling away. "I want to trust you, Mordred," he said, a long-lost look in his eyes. Mordred could almost see them turning gold.

"But you don't," he surmised. And did he ever want to know why. There was...something. Something holding Merlin back, something that kept the wary glint in his eye.

"I've put my trust in many people in the past, and too many have let me down," Merlin answered. "I want to trust you, Mordred, but you must first prove to me that I can."

"I will," he vowed, straightening at the importance of his words. "I believe in the future you promise, Emrys. And I want to help you build such a future. I will follow Arthur back to Camelot, if he will let me, but it is with you that my loyalties lie."

"Really?" Merlin asked, looking surprised and just a bit embarrassed.

Mordred lifted the corner of his lips into a half-smile and replied, "You're Emrys. If not you, then who shall I follow?"

The next day, they crossed the northern border and entered Camelot territory, and Arthur officially offered Mordred a place in its kingdom. He accepted, and in a week's time he found himself kneeling before the king, knighted as Sir Mordred of Camelot. And from the crowd, now erupted into cheers for their newest member, Merlin watched and wondered.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 _The future is uncertain. Without the support of the one they call Emrys, the Once and Future King will never succeed in fulfilling his destiny. All that we have worked for will be lost, and magic will forever be banished from this land, never to return. Camelot will crumble, and the dark witch will destroy all of Albion. Avalon will perish. And so he has been warned._

Mordred wasn't the youngest person to ever be knighted (for many nobles who have been training since they could walk received their knighthood at eighteen, sometimes even seventeen), but he was certainly still a youth, not yet of age. His skills with a blade were nothing extraordinary, but skill he did have. He soon discovered that the rogue-ish, thrown together style of fighting he had was nothing like that of Camelot's, and though his speed allowed him to hold up well enough in combat, he found himself at a distinct disadvantage from all the other knights. Gwaine seemed to have his own method as well, but he also had a lot more natural talent than Mordred, as well as brute strength to give him an extra edge if the more formalized fighting proved too advanced for him. Percival, similarly, seemed to have his own style, which mostly amounted to: hit them harder than they hit me. Neither of these methods were ones that Mordred could compare to, which left him to learn the careful strategies and Roman-type combat of Camelot.

Training with the knights was nothing like anything Mordred had experienced before. His days of living as a Druid were mostly spent learning from the Elders, practicing his magic, listening to tales from Ole Gee, and playing with the other children his age. And chores. Plenty of chores, though magic made them easier.

With the knights, however, he traded in magic for a sword, lessons for battle strategies, and chores for intense training sessions that could last for hours or more. Mordred had trouble keeping up at first, unused to the heavy armour and long duels, or the insane workouts Arthur had them do. Eventually, however, he began to improve, his body shaping itself to fit his new lifestyle, and muscles slowly learning the complex movements and flicks of his sword to keep him from getting impaled. He was proud of his accomplishments. But he also missed home.

Out of habit, Mordred woke long before the rest of Camelot did. Druids often rose before dawn, and he spent the few hours of peace he had to explore the castle or find a small nook to read (he preferred to keep this hobby a secret, since he'd no doubt be ridiculed for it if it were found out). Sometimes, Merlin joined him for a walk.

Most days, the warlock was not awake early enough to catch Mordred before the morning rush. But every now and then he was, and he suspected unwanted dreams to be the cause (nightmares or visions, or maybe both). They did not happen often enough for Merlin to be a true seer, but Mordred thought they might be getting worse. Merlin refused to speak of it, so for all he knew, he was completely wrong in the matter.

Dawn was still an hour away when Mordred woke, and a familiar presence down the hall from his room stayed his hand from bringing a book. Out in the corridor, Merlin leaned against the wall, arms folded and eyes closed. He looked up when Mordred approached, revealing dark circles of a sleepless night under his eyes that would no doubt fade by the time anyone else -specifically, Arthur- could see. This was the first time Merlin had ever looked so tired, and Mordred worried.

"Is something wrong?" he asked as Merlin pushed himself from the wall and let his arms drop. He didn't answer right away, so they began their walk, no true destination in mind, though they often found themselves at the square where Mordred first called out in terror, all those years ago.

Eventually, Merlin asked, "Do you ever have visions, Mordred?"

"No," he replied. "Usually, only seers can receive visions, though certain artifacts, such as the Crystal of Neahtid, can show those with the magic to wield it similar effects."

"I know. It...showed me things, once," Merlin admitted, recalling the time when he thought he had made a permanent enemy of Mordred, back when he was young and foolish. When they were both young and foolish.

Mordred didn't dare ask what he had seen, simply waited for Merlin to continue speaking.

"I'm not a seer," Merlin said after some time. "But I still have visions. Do you know why?" It was asked gently, but there was an underlying earnestness that proved how unsettled Merlin really was. After all, it were such visions that proved a great part in Morgana's madness.

"It could be because of your power," Mordred mused. "Or your status as Emrys. Or both. Or, perhaps someone -something- is sending them to you?"

"Who has the power to send another visions in such a manner?" Merlin asked, the thought of it clearly disconcerting.

"The gods of the Old Religion," Mordred answered. "Dragons were rumoured to have such abilities, but that is only speculation and stories. If you told me what these visions are about, then I could perhaps give you a better answer." He waited with bated breath, wondering if _this_ would be the day- the day that Emrys would trust him.

Merlin paused, forcing Mordred to stop as well lest he leave the other behind. He considered it for a long while, hands clasped behind his back and face drawn into deep thought. Eventually, he sighed and decided, "Not today. But maybe another time."

Mordred nodded, disappointed but accepting. "I trust your judgement," he said, and their walking resumed, though their talking had ceased. After some time, Merlin bid Mordred farewell and left to retrieve Arthur's breakfast, leaving the young knight to himself and another day of training.

-0-

Patrols were...boring, to say the least. Mordred could personally say that nothing ever happened whenever it was his troupe's turn to comb the woods around Camelot, and if it weren't for the fact that threat of Morgana was still at large, he would even dare say it was pointless. No bandits would risk coming so close to the city walls, and there were the larger patrols stationed at various villages and small towns to take care of those deeper in. They weren't at war with anyone, and everyone who entered Camelot were under the careful scrutiny of countless guards. Really, the local patrols were more to simply give the knights something to do when they weren't training or hunting or going off on noble quests. But, Mordred _supposed_ they held _some_ merit, especially since they did have one, albeit very powerful, enemy.

Mordred's troupe consisted of five other knights. Percival was one of them, and two he recognized from Ismere. Sir Robert and Galahad, probably ten years his senior and bearing every kind of story imaginable ("Have I told you about the time where King Uther married a troll yet?"). The final two were Sir Kay and Sir Thomas, who Mordred didn't meet until three days after his knighting ceremony. They were nice enough (though Sir Kay was a bit brutish), despite their constant teasing. Being young and new meant that Mordred was susceptible to every kind of prank imaginable ("I don't have the saddle on backwards!"). Despite all this, he liked them well enough, and they accepted him into their ranks without thought. It was...nice.

"So Mordred," Thomas drawled, folding his hands behind his head to stretch as they walked along their patrol route. "You seemed to of come out of nowhere. Where're you from?"

"A small, nomadic village," Mordred answered, truthfully. He wouldn't dare reveal his Druidic background, but he decided to stick as close to the truth as possible. "We lived mostly south from here."

"So how'd you end up in a place like Ismere then?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Stupidity, mostly," was his answer. "As well as a bit of bad luck." He was careful in his answer, not wanting to get too specific. He didn't feel much like explaining how he got captured by slave traders and degraded himself to one of them to save his own skin. And he _really_ didn't feel like explaining exactly _why_ he chose to save Arthur, and how he found himself in the position to do so. "I'm just lucky that you guys were there when I was, else I would've never gotten out of there."

"I'm sorry I missed the show," Thomas pouted, though there was a smirk on his face.

"There wasn't much to miss," Galahad told him. "We were working in a mine. Morgana was a crazy, evil sorcerer. And according to Gwaine, there was a dragon at some point."

"Oh, come off it," Robert scoffed. "That didn't _really_ happen. Where the hell would Morgana find a dragon? Gwaine was probably just at the drink again."

Galahad shrugged and answered, "Well, I heard that Arthur saw it too."

"Hm," Robert wondered, then turned to the largest knight in their company. "You know anything about it Percival?"

"From what I understand," he said, voice soft but strong, "Is that Arthur, Gwaine, and Merlin ran into a dragon while in the caves and somehow Merlin led it off."

 _Somehow,_ Mordred snickered to himself. Though, now that he actually thought about it, how _did_ he manage that? From the stories, dragons were resistant against nearly all kinds of magic. Maybe it was because this one is still very young?

The knights were unsettled by such information -Morgana, with a dragon?- but then Kay broke the tension by muttering, "That boy's gonna get himself killed one day, I swear," and then they were all laughing about the numerous times Merlin had unexpectedly saved Arthur's life or managed to come out of deadly situations without a scratch on him. Mordred smirked and rolled his eyes, unnoticed by his comrades.

 _"Mordred?"_

He froze for a moment, startled by the voice in his mind, before realizing that Merlin's presence was only a short distance from them. _"Hello Emrys,"_ he replied, resuming his pace without the rest of the knights noticing his pause.

 _"What are you doing here?"_ There was slight accusation in his tone, prompting a wince from Mordred and a hope that one day Merlin might not be so suspicious of him in the future.

 _"Patrol. You?"_

There was some hesitation before he answered, _"Herbs. I'm collecting herbs for Gaius."_ Mordred wasn't sure if one's mental voice could sound tired, but Merlin's certainly did. Taking care that the knights had their attention elsewhere, he looked and Saw the path before them and found Merlin in a clearing not that far ahead. By the way he was sitting, it looked like he had stopped to rest -sleeping, even- until he had noticed Mordred's presence getting closer.

The mental connection wasn't broken after that, but Merlin did pull away, so Mordred remained silent. A few minutes later, he and the knights walked into the clearing, eliciting a (faked) startled jump from Merlin, who was hunched over a patch of herbs. He knew of their approach, thanks to Mordred, but obviously hadn't bothered with moving himself for privacy.

"Merlin!" Thomas greeted cheerily. "We were just talking about you!"

"That's...disconcerting," he muttered as Thomas asked, "Whatcha doing out here?"

"Just gathering some herbs," Merlin answered, gesturing his basket full of roots and weeds and all kinds of plants that none of them recognized. He gathered his things up and added, "I was just heading back, actually. So, um…" He started off on the trail but was stopped when Galahad called after him.

"Hold up Merlin!" he said, prompting the servant to raise an eyebrow in question. Perhaps it was because Mordred knew of his recent lack of sleep, but he looked weary. Tired.

"Was there really a dragon at Ismere?" Galahad asked, sounding equally parts amused and curious.

Merlin glanced at the lot of them, as if to say 'This _is what you guys talk about on patrols?'_ then answered, "Yeah, there was a dragon. Real small compared to the last one."

"And did you _really_ lead it off?" Robert asked next.

"Um...yes?"

"How are you still alive?" the knight exclaimed, shaking his head incredulously.

Merlin shrugged and gave them a wry grin. "I'm just not an idiot."

Galahad frowned and accused, "Hey! You calling us idiots?"

"I'm not calling you anything," Merlin replied innocently and began walking his way down the path. "Mind the rocks!" he called back, a teasing lilt in his tone. "They can get tricky if you're not watching out!"

"Hm," Percival mumbled to himself once they resumed their patrol.

"What?" Mordred asked, the only one who heard him.

The large knight shrugged and answered, "Nothing. Just Merlin usually joins us when he runs into our patrols. Says it gets him out of more chores."

"Well, I think he wanted to get back," Mordred answered carefully. "He did seem a bit tired, didn't he?" Nobody but him seemed to of noticed Merlin's sudden lack of sleep, and he hoped to clue Percival in that something was wrong.

He gave another shrug. "I didn't really notice anything different, but maybe."

-0-

Merlin's presence during Mordred's morning walks were becoming more and more regular. About once every other week, to start with, but now he'd see the warlock nearly every other day. And each time, the lines on Merlin's face were more drawn, the circles under his eyes just a bit darker, and features paler and paler.

Mordred tried to learn of Merlin's visions, with the hope that he could help. He was concerned, but there was little he could do. All traces of exhaustion were gone by the time anyone else could notice, and Merlin was far too good an actor to be caught. What was Mordred to say? That the king's manservant has been having troubling visions every night due to his magic? Mordred pitied him, forced to suffer alone.

Well, not completely alone. Gaius knew, but his only solution was a sleeping draught. Brush it under the rug, like he had with Morgana. It angered Mordred, that something so serious could be discarded so readily. Gaius meant well, but he knew very little when it came to such magic. Whatever the reason for Merlin's visions, sedatives would do nothing for him.

-0-

It had been nearly two years since Mordred had tried performing magic. _Real_ magic, mind you, not some petty trick to help him light a fire or fix a broken button. Like any skill, he was out of practice, a thought that did not sit well with him. He'd have to remedy that, perhaps enlist Merlin's help. But, despite how long it may have been, Mordred was still an accomplished sorcerer. He'd spent nearly his entire life to learning and training in the arcane arts, hoping to one day repay his debt to Arthur and to Emrys, and he still remembered every spell, recalled every lesson he was ever taught. And he intended to put his knowledge to good use.

About once or twice a month, Arthur let the knights have a day off. Most spent their time in the tavern, or sparring with one another, or with the girl they were sweet on. Gwaine had officially invited Mordred to "Get drunk and be merry" down at the Rising Sun, but he politely refused, reciting an excuse he came up with on the spot, and then locked himself in his room.

If anyone knew what Mordred had done on his rare day off, they probably would have laughed. How could one spend an entire day making one, simple bracelet anyway? Just a bit of knotted leather, nothing more. Far too girly for a knight to spend their time doing, even if they had a special someone to woo. He'd be better off just buying one.

And that was the primary reason why Mordred did not tell anyone what he was doing. That, and they'd bound to be asking things such as _"Why"_ and he didn't have any kind of answer that sounded acceptable and wasn't completely illegal.

The bracelet was made from three lengths of leather, and Mordred spent careful time with each one before deeming them ready. He wasn't completely certain he knew what he was doing. He had an idea, a good idea, but he'd never done this before. Only seen it, when Elder Bandoul enchanted a necklace for young Aelyn, their sleepless seer.

Each strand of leather was imbued with Mordred's magic, locked tightly in place and thrumming with an ancient energy that very few were familiar with in such times. Once he was satisfied that he had done all that he could, he wove the strands together and tied them off once he finished. He held it up to the light, a few hours before evening, and decided it suitable. It was...rustic. But, hopefully, it would get the job done.

Finished with his task and just a little exhausted, Mordred left his chambers to find a certain manservant, who most definitely did _not_ have the day off like the knights. He considered searching for him using the Silent Speech, but this wasn't anything urgent to warrant it. And Merlin did not yet consider him trustworthy enough for such a causal connection. So, Mordred found him the hard way, checking first Arthur's chambers, then Gaius', and finally finding him in the armoury, polishing the king's sword.

Merlin looked up in vague surprise at his approach, clearly not expecting any knights in today. "What is it?" he asked, because Mordred would not have seeked him out so purposefully if he did not have a reason.

"I have something for you," he replied, settling himself on the bench next to Merlin and pulling out his creation.

"What is it?" Merlin asked. More accurately, _'What did you do to it?'_ He could clearly sense the magic from the thing, and was wary of its purpose.

"I cannot guarantee it will work," Mordred replied. "But, hopefully, it will help calm your visions and allow more peaceful rest."

Merlin was surprised. "Really?" he sounded hopeful, and Mordred could see through the enchantment he used to hide how tired he truly was.

"Yes," he answered. "There was a girl in the camp I grew up in. Aelyn. She was a seer, and one of the elders made something similar to help her sleep. I don't know if it will work with you, since I'm not certain on the cause of your visions. But it should work better than a potion, in any case."

Merlin had widened eyes when he took it, looking at it from all angles before tying it around his wrist. "Why did you do this for me?" he asked.

Mordred shrugged and replied, "Well, with you looking after Arthur all the time, I suppose someone has to look after you. You're no use in protecting the Once and Future King if you faint from exhaustion."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Please, it's not _that_ bad. But-" He looked at Mordred to show that he was genuine and said, "Thank you. Even if it doesn't end up working, thank you."

Mordred's face morphed into a kind smile and he nodded. Four days later, Merlin reported that his nights were calmer now. He still got the occasional vision, but it wasn't nearly as disruptive or exhausting as they used to be. And Mordred was one step closer to earning his trust.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 _There is hope yet, but it can still all be lost within the blink of an eye. The Triple Goddess grows restless in her patience; soon her judgement_ will _be passed, and no living force will be able to alter Destiny once it has been decided. It is time that Emrys made his choice, and the fate of Albion will follow in its wake._

There was misery in Morgana's eyes, and it pained Mordred to see it there. When had she become so lost? So broken? Where was that hopeful, kind-hearted young woman he once knew? The love and compassion she once held was long gone, replaced by bitterness and anger and everything Mordred loathed to become. Her words were venom, voice like ice, trailing down his spine and causing him to shiver.

"I pity you, Morgana." And truly, he did. She had destroyed any chance she had at finding happiness, of discovering how to love again. She would never be content, not even if she achieved all that she desired. Her heart laid shattered, too scattered and destroyed to ever be mended.

"Then I have no further use of you."

And behind the pity, there was the fear. Mordred tried not to feel it, tried to remain strong, but in truth, he was afraid to die. He promised Merlin his life, should it come to that, and it looked like he was now giving its due. Morgana will kill him, here and now, and he would die unmarked, never knowing a day when he could be free.

It was this fear that he lashed out with. Instinctive, really, since it had been so long when he last used such powerful magic. He caught Morgana by surprise, knocking her off her feet, giving him the barest chance to escape. Mordred ran, too afraid to stay longer, fearful by what might happen to him. Or what he might do.

When he arrived by the water's side, he found Arthur and the still unconscious Gwen, but no Merlin in sight. He only went to search for the Dolma, he was sure, so he didn't worry.

"Mordred!" Arthur's voice was full of relief. "I thought we'd lost you!"

"So did I," he answered, the fear of death still close to his heart.

"How did you escape Morgana?"

Mordred had no suitable answer to give, but fortune favored him when an old woman covered in rags hobbled around the corner. The Dolma, no doubt.

"Who are you?" she demanded, glaring at the pair. "What business have you in this sacred place?"

Arthur frowned at her, then asked, "Are you the Dolma, ancient sorceress of the Cauldron of Arianrhod?"

"Who else would I be?" she replied, her piercing blue eyes boring into them.

Mordred was unnerved by her, something that just felt off. And then Arthur leaned next to him and whispered, "Does she look familiar to you?"

"There is something," he agreed. In hindsight, he probably should have seen it sooner, but he didn't know that the Dolma was made up.

The old sorceress frowned at their whispers and came closer. "What say you? Why do you mutter?"

"You look familiar, sorceress," Arthur answered, looking her up and down to try and pinpoint exactly what tickled his senses.

"Oh?" The Dolma pulled her hood closer over her head. "Is that so?"

"It is."

Mordred couldn't shake the feeling either, but there was something else pressing on his mind. Something a bit more urgent. "My lord, where is Merlin?" he asked softly, eyeing the Dolma with suspicion. He doubted she was strong enough to defeat him, but Merlin would just as soon let her triumph over him than reveal himself.

Arthur placed a hand on his sword and glared at the sorceress. "What have you done with my servant?" he demanded.

"Oh…" For a moment, it almost looked like she didn't know how to answer. But then it was gone and she said, "The gangly boy. Hm…"

Arthur and Mordred drew their blades at the same time. "What have you done with him?" growled the king, and Mordred was ready to threaten her mentally if need be. But then-

 _"Mordred."_

He was so surprised he took a step back. He stared into the Dolma's eyes and replied, incredulous, _"Merlin?!"_

"The boy is fine," she -or rather, _he_ \- answered aloud. "Just some surety, for an old woman such as myself."

 _"What...How...But why…"_

 _"Blame Gaius. It was his idea."_

Suddenly, Mordred had to stop himself from snorting in laughter.

Sending a rather annoyed look his way, Merlin straightened then said to Arthur, "I'll return him to you once we've concluded our business."

Still wary but seeing no other option, Arthur said, "So you know why we're here then."

"Nothing is hidden from the eyes of the Dolma."

Mordred covered up a snicker with a cough and Arthur gave him an odd look.

"Now hurry, before your queen awakes," Merlin continued. "Set her by the pool."

Arthur obeyed, sheathing his sword to lift Guinevere into his arms and gently laying her at the edge of the water. He brushed some stray hairs from her face, before moving aside to allow Merlin to look over her.

"Great King," he said, looking up at Arthur. "The magic which has ensnared you queen is strong indeed. It can be fought, it can be broken, but it may also prevail. Do you understand this?"

Arthur nodded. "I do." Mordred wasn't so certain he really did, and neither, so it seemed, was Merlin.

"We we will attempt will not be easy," he stressed. "If we fail, your queen will be lost forever."

Arthur took a moment, to allow himself to imagine what could happen. He took a deep breath and said, "I understand."

"Very well," Merlin replied. "When I awake Guinevere from her sleep, she must walk into the Cauldron of Arianrhod of her own will. Only then will the spell be broken." He held up a cautionary finger and said, "But be warned, all the magic that binds her will fight against it."

The hope seemed to deflate from Arthur's eyes at such news as he asked, "How then can we succeed?"

Merlin fixed him with a hard stare. "You must reach her, Arthur," he said, voice adamant as he struggled to his feet. "Reach that part of your queen which has remained untouched by the evil of Morgana."

"Is there such a part?"

"You must believe there is," he answered. Then he gestured Arthur closer and said, "Prepare. When she wakes, you will have but a few moments." Mordred moved aside to watch as Merlin knelt over Gwen once more, hand hovering over her. He strained his ears to hear the spell he murmured, catching only a few of the words. "Gielde ic thec...gyden aeblaece." _I offer you...White Goddess._

" _I_ really _hope this works,"_ Mordred heard Merlin mutter in his mind as Arthur helped him up. Mordred glanced at him with worried eyes as the king knelt beside his queen, waiting for her to wake.

He didn't have to wait long. Gwen's eyes fluttered open only moments later, immediately widening in alarm as she sat up, looking in every direction and crying, "Where am I? What have you done to me?"

"You've been asleep for a long time-" Arthur tried to explain, cut off when she pushed herself to her feet and tried to hurry away.

"Get away from me!" she cried as Arthur caught her arm.

"Guinevere! My Guinevere," Arthur said, holding her by the arms even as she struggled.

" _Your_ Guinevere?" she scorned. "You stupid, foolish man! I was never yours and I never will be!"

"You must reach her, Arthur," Merlin broke in. "Reach her or all is lost."

Gwen glared at her and sneered, "Who's this old crone?" Mordred had never known the queen for long, but he certainly knew that she would never say such a cruel thing; she was far too kind-hearted.

"You loved me once," Arthur said, jolting her lightly to that she would look at him.

"You're easily fooled, Arthur," she answered, trying to shove away from him.

"And still do," he pressed.

"It was a trick, nothing more!" Gwen insisted, but Mordred thought she seemed less sure than before. "A subterfuge to pass Camelot to its rightful queen!"

"I don't believe that," Arthur replied, holding her tighter as her struggling increased.

"Believe what you like, the fact remains," she snarled, giving a soft yelp as Arthur tried to force her towards the pool.

"No, it must be of her own free will," Merlin reminded him, and Mordred could detect the slight nervousness in his voice. He wasn't sure Arthur could reach her.

Arthur looked back at Merlin, brows creased in desperation, then turned back to Gwen. "Look at me," he said, gripping her tight. "Tell me you don't love me."

"Let me go!" she demanded, but something about her was changed. Mordred could almost see the conflict within her mind.

"Do you remember when I asked you to marry me?" Arthur pressed on. "Do you remember what you said?" Gwen didn't answer, only looked at him with widened eyes. "You said, 'With all my heart.' That's what you said, Guinevere. That was no subterfuge. No trickery."

Gwen ceased in her struggling, and the look she held in her eyes no longer had any hatred. "With all my heart," Arthur said, slowly letting go of her and moving backwards towards the pool. "With all my heart," he repeated, and Gwen gasped as if she was taking her first breath after being born again.

"With all my heart," she whispered, her voice full of all the pain and heartbreak from Morgana's trickery.

Arthur was in the water now, and he held his hand out to her, saying one, gentle word. "Come."

A tear slipped down Gwen's cheek as she came towards him, steps uncertain until she grasped his hand in her own. She suddenly straightened, going deeper into the pool as Arthur slowly pulled away. That's when Merlin began to chant.

"Yfel gaest, ga thu fram thisselichaman. Bith hire mod eft freo. Ar ond heofonutungol sceal thurhswithan!" _You, evil spirit, go away from this body. Her mind is free again. Glory and the heavenly luminary shall prevail!_

Immediately, a beautiful white light appeared on the water, encasing Gwen in it's celestial embrace. Mordred's heart swelled at such pure magic that glimmered before him, filling his senses and washing over him like a cool breeze on a hot day. _"The White Goddess,"_ he thought in awe.

" _Indeed,"_ Merlin replied, surprising Mordred. He didn't know that the warlock could hear him. But then he glanced at him and saw through the glamour that hid his face so well, all his thoughts and relief written clearly in his eyes. There were no lies in the presence of the White Goddess, and no secrets.

The light faded, and Merlin's glamour returned, his mind closed off once more. Mordred wondered what Arthur would have seen, if he had only turned around, but his eyes were only for Guinevere. The queen turned, and a soft smile broke over her lips. She held her hand out to Arthur, pulling him to her in a tight embrace once he was close enough.

Mordred smiled and turned to Merlin, who had a large grin on his face, so familiar that he worried Arthur might recognize it if he kept it up. "You did it, Emrys," he told him, and the grin softened into a relieved smile.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Mordred," he replied, voice losing the ridiculous pitch, which was really weird to hear coming from such an aged face. Mordred chuckled softly, and Merlin shot him a questioning look.

"Sorry. Just...a woman?"

Merlin's face fell into an annoyed glare. "I told you, it was all Gaius. I had no say in it whatsoever."

They fell silent after that, for Arthur and Gwen had turned towards them and were returning to the shore. Merlin stepped back, assuming his 'Dolma' persona as the king and queen moved to address him, each keeping a tight hold on the other.

"I owe you a great debt," Arthur said, then glanced down at Gwen. "We both do. If there's anything else I can do for you in return- perhaps a new dress."

"Arthur!" Gwen scolded.

"She likes clothes," Arthur quickly explained, which really didn't explain anything at all.

" _Clothes?"_ he wondered, eyebrows raised.

" _I dropped the dress and Arthur saw, it was the only thing I could think of, now shut up."_ Merlin didn't miss a beat as he spoke aloud, saying, "There is one thing."

"Name it," Arthur promised.

"Remember what saved your queen," he replied. "Magic and sorcery."

"It was also sorcery that bewitched her," Arthur answered.

"There is no evil in magic, only in the hearts of men," Merlin shot right back. And even though he was still looking at Arthur, Mordred couldn't help but feel like he was being stared at. "My request is that you remember this."

Arthur nodded to her. "You have my word."

He was turning to go, and Mordred caught the exasperated look on Merlin's face. Hiding an amused grin, he turned to Arthur and said, "What of Merlin, my lord?"

"Of course!" Arthur whirled back around, trying very hard to _not_ look like he just forgot about his manservant.

"Merlin's here?" Gwen asked, looking around. "Is he alright? What happened to him? Did you _forget_ him?"

And then Mordred did chuckle, and when Arthur shot him a glare he said, "Sorry, my lord," before pressing his lips together to keep from smiling.

Sighing at the both of them, Arthur turned back to Merlin and asked, "I ask that you would release my servant now."

"Of course," Merlin answered, obviously trying not to roll his eyes or call his king a clotpole. He turned and walked away, leaving the three of them standing on the shore.

"She's not going to just disappear, right?" Gwen asked, since she really had little idea on what happened before she awoke.

"Well, she's helped us thus far," Arthur replied. "She wouldn't betray us now. I hope," he added under his breath, but loud enough for them to hear.

"I'm sure Merlin's fine, my lord," Mordred assured him.

Sure enough, it was only a few minutes later when Merlin came around the bend, the right age and gender and back into his normal clothes. "Gwen!" he cried once he spotted them, running to them. Gwen met him in a tight hug as he exclaimed, "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"Me too, Merlin," she agreed, pulling back with a wide grin on her face.

"And you, Merlin?" Arthur asked. "That sorceress didn't...do anything?"

He shrugged. "She just trapped me in some cave high up in the cliffs. Said she wanted to make sure that you wouldn't kill her on sight or something."

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Well, it's good to know that everyone's safe and free from Morgana's influence." He gripped Gwen protectively when he said this, before relaxing and saying, "Let's go home."

-0-

With only three horses, Gwen ended up riding back to Camelot with Arthur, allowing Merlin and Mordred to hang back and talk quietly amongst themselves. Primarily, they spoke of Morgana, how she knew they were there, and how Mordred escaped from her. This, of course, led to other questions that Mordred simply couldn't ignore.

"Merlin," he said after a lull. "How did you defeat Aithusa? According to the legends, only Dragon Lords had such power." He kept his voice low, glancing up to make sure neither Arthur nor Gwen were listening.

"Yeah," Merlin agreed. "That would be about right." He sighed and turned to look at him. "I hope you'll forgive me for not telling you sooner, but I am. A Dragon Lord, I mean. My father was the last of the Dragon Lords, and passed the power to me after he died."

Mordred's eyebrows rose in surprise, but he only nodded. Of course Emrys would also be a Dragon Lord. It only made sense.

"I actually hatched Aithusa," Merlin continued. "It's something only Dragon Lords can do, by naming it. I don't know how Morgana got her hands on her, or what she did to get her allegiance-" He paused, looking defeated at what he failed to prevent. "I just hope I can one day make things right," he eventually finished.

"I'm sure you will," Mordred replied, thinking over this new information. He knew Merlin had his secrets, but he never realized just how many.

They rode in silence for a long while, where at one point Merlin went ahead to give Arthur some retort before falling back once more. Then, rather softly, he said, "I'm sorry."

Mordred looked at him in surprise. "For what?"

"For not trusting you," he explained. "It was unfair to you, no matter my reasons. Once we get back to Camelot, I'll tell you everything. You at least deserve that much, especially after helping us save Gwen."

A hopeful smile broke out over Mordred's face. "Really?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Yes. I don't want to make the same mistakes as I did in the past." What that meant, Mordred didn't know. But there was a dark, pensive look on his face, and now he was almost wary to learn what he had to say. He wondered if trust wasn't the only reason why Merlin refused to share his visions with him.

The ride back to Camelot was a long one after that.

-0-

"When you first came to Camelot, the Great Dragon told me that I should let you die." Merlin's eyes were hardened and unmoving, refusing to look at the young man staring at him with widened eyes. Mordred tried not to react to such a confession, but a sharp intake of breath betrayed his swirling emotions. "He told me that one day, you would kill Arthur." Merlin chose that moment to look at him, and said, "That is why I did not come right away, to save you from the tunnels. I had put my faith in the dragon, and thought that I was doing what was right." He closed his eyes as he said, "But I cannot condemn you for something you have not even done."

Mordred's lips were pressed into a thin line, breathing suddenly becoming more rapid as his heartbeat sped up. What Merlin talked of was Destiny. If it came from a dragon-

"The dragon still insists that I cannot trust you," Merlin continued. "I've spoken to him, since Ismere. He claims that you are Arthur's Bane, and that should the opportunity arise again, I should let you die."

Mordred parted his lips to speak, but Merlin wasn't done.

"And he wasn't the only one. While travelling to Ismere, we came across a Druid  
camp." Merlin lowered his eyes in reverence as he added, "They were all dead. Save for one I found, lying beside a pool. He _showed_ me things. Terrible things. There was...fire. And death, everywhere. And you." Merlin's gaze bore into his own as he said, "I didn't recognize you, until you and the slave traders found us. But you were there, and so was Arthur. And you killed him." Merlin shook his head and sighed. "I was so sure you were going to kill him, at Ismere. There you stood, side-by-side with Morgana, and I knew that it must all be true, what I saw, what the dragon told me. But then… Well, you didn't. And then you came to me, promised that you would earn my trust, and I didn't think you were lying. And at some point, I realized that you weren't going to betray Arthur. Not as things are now. Which means that _something_ is meant to happen. Something that will drive you away, straight into Morgana's arms." Merlin was silent for a moment, but Mordred dared not speak, not yet. He still had more to say. "My silence played a part in Morgana's betrayal, and consequential insanity. I could have gone to her, shared my secret, helped her at least, but I didn't. I will _not_ make the same mistake again. So, Mordred, I am telling you. I am telling you exactly why I could not trust you before, and why I am choosing to trust you now."

Mordred was silent, frozen by all that he had learned. His hands were clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palm hard enough to leave a mark. Eventually, he drew a shaky breath and said, "What you've told me- it is my _destiny_ to kill Arthur. I can't- I don't- Dragons do not lie, Emrys-"

"But they certainly warp the truth," Merlin cut in with a huff. "Kilgharrah, the Great Dragon, loves his riddles and half-truths too much for me to take his word at face-value. Besides, I don't think the future is set in stone, for you or for me."

"What do you mean?"

"My visions." Mordred had almost forgotten about them, it had been so long since they were an issue. "They've all but left me alone," Merlin said, "And I think I understand why they were sent to me. They were warnings."

"Warnings." Mordred didn't like the sound of that.

Merlin nodded. "Some were...terrible," and his face darkened at the memory. "Different versions of a similar outcome, with different deaths in each- except for Arthur. And you, always by Morgana's side, the one who delivered the fatal blow." Mordred's eyes widened in fear, but Merlin wasn't finished yet. "But some," he continued, "Were everything I hoped to achieve. Albion, united. Magic, returned to the land. Arthur living to be a grumpy old age and people like us able to live in freedom. And Mordred, you were there too. Not in all of them, but you were there. Alive, free, and happy.

"So, no, I don't think the future has decided on its outcome yet. And I am going to make damn sure that I don't mess up this chance that I've been given."

Mordred was silent for a long while, processing all that Merlin had told him. It was, it seemed, his destiny to kill Arthur, and yet there also looked to be a way out. A third door, one not filled with so much pain and suffering. It was locked tight, but perhaps Merlin had the key? "So…" Mordred breathed, gathering his thoughts. "So…" What was he to say? That he didn't blame Merlin in the least for not trusting him? That he wasn't sure he could now? Despite the hope that all could be well, Mordred knew that destiny is not so easily altered. "Are you sure about this?" he finally asked, because if he were in Merlin's situation, he was sure he'd of sent himself off to some foreign land, where he couldn't hurt or betray anybody.

"I'm sure," Merlin replied. "Don't prove me a fool." His eyes were deadly serious, and Mordred nearly shuddered at the warning his magic subconsciously gave.

"I won't," he promised, and all he hoped was that he could keep it. "Thank you Emrys."

Merlin gave him a thin smile, then left to do his chores. He had made his decision, and now all he could do was wait to see if it was the right one.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 _And so the pieces have all been set. The time has come to reveal loyalties and where they truly lie. What will prevail: love or duty, destiny or choice? Emrys has made his judgement, and so the fate of all remains entwined with that of the Druid boy and the Once and Future King. Albion is upon us, and whether there be peace or war, the time of magic is near._

Everything fell apart so fast. War waged within Mordred's mind, pulling him in every direction, nearly tearing him to pieces. All his hopes of the future were slipping through his fingers, fading away to almost nothing. And what was he to do? Deep beneath the castle, a girl -the only girl he's ever loved- sat huddled in the dungeons, awaiting her execution; and lying feverish in Gaius' chambers, Merlin's life slowly ebbed away.

It was unfair, really, that this was to happen to him, all at once. What has he ever done to deserve such cruel treatment from the gods? Surely, they must be punishing him for what he is meant to do. Escaping Destiny was never an option, it seemed, no matter what Merlin told him. Mordred was to be Arthur's Bane. It could not be stopped.

He feared what he was going to do, once Kara was executed. He chased excuses around in his head, trying to justify betraying Arthur in order to set her free. He remembered Merlin's words, back when he was confessing to the terrible truth he had kept hidden, terrified by what might happen. " _And at some point, I realized that you weren't going to betray Arthur. Not as things are now. Which means that something is meant to happen. Something that will drive you away, straight into Morgana's arms."_ And he was right. Surely, this was the 'something' that he spoke of? The only question was what choice was the wrong one? Which direction would lead him down the path that Mordred feared so much, that Destiny seemed so determined to see him through?

If only Merlin was able to help him. But that was the problem. The _other_ problem. Emrys was slowly dying, and Mordred had no way to save him. His magic was no match for the Disir, only Merlin stood any chance against such power. If this was a test, then Mordred was surely failing.

The king had summoned him. Mordred walked with weary steps towards his chambers, not ready for the conversation ahead no matter how necessary it was. Over and over he wished that none of this had ever happened, that it was all just a bad dream. But he couldn't ignore the heaviness in his heart, nor the solemn look on Arthur's face when he entered the room.

"Mordred," the king greeted. "Have a seat." He was already seated at his desk, a forgotten pile of paperwork before him and a faraway look in his eyes. Mordred sat across from him, keeping his gaze low and hands folded carefully in front of him. It was several moments before Arthur spoke again, regret filling his voice as he said, "I want to...apologize. About the dru- about Kara. I know this can't be easy."

"You did what you could," Mordred replied, closing his eyes as he remembered Kara's scorn when Arthur offered her a chance, a way out, if only she'd take it. "I just wish Morgana's lies hadn't spread so deeply."

"As do I," he agreed. "I know this is a lot to ask, but I hope you can forgive me."

Mordred pursed his lips and refused to raise his eyes. "I think...I might. In time."

Arthur nodded. "Thank you, Mordred. It's been a...trying week." He looked up, noticing for the first time the dark circles under the king's eyes.

"How is he, my lord?" Mordred asked with a tentative voice. He had avoided seeing Merlin so far, afraid by what he'd find.

"Not any better," Arthur answered with a sigh. "But not much worse. Gaius says he's holding up remarkably well." He paused, one hand tightening into a fist. "But without a remedy he won't last much longer."

"Is there nothing that can be done?" If Kara died, and Merlin as well, then Mordred wasn't sure what he'd do. Emrys was the reason he came to Camelot, and the reason why he fought so hard against his impulses now.

"There is one thing," Arthur replied, and Mordred felt hope fill him. "Gaius said that the only thing with the power to help Merlin are the Disir. I think, perhaps, if I spoke to them, I could convince them to spare Merlin's life. And-" he added, almost hesitantly. "I want you to come with me."

"Me?" Mordred asked. "But why?"

"You were once a Druid," Arthur explained. "You are the closest I have to an expert on the Old Religion. And they might be willing to listen to you." It made sense, Mordred concluded, but Arthur's face told of a catch. "I leave tomorrow afternoon," he went on. "I would leave sooner, but Kara's ex- well, it's in the morning." Right. That. For one, brief moment, Mordred had nearly forgotten about it.

"I understand if you don't wish to go," Arthur added before he had a chance to respond. "But, I hope that you will consider it."

Mordred nodded, mind numb and face blank. "I will," he choked out before fleeing the room, finding a secluded corner for him to catch his breath. He had much to think about.

-0-

He wasn't surprised when he found his way to the dungeons. He had already been once before, with a promise on his lips to convince Arthur otherwise of his sentence. A promise he wasn't able to keep, even if it wasn't the king who was to blame.

"Mordred," Kara called in a hushed voice when he came to her cell, hands gripping the bars and sadness in her eyes. "I told you. I told you he would not change his mind."

He lowered his gaze and whispered, "He offered you redemption, Kara. Why didn't you take it? All you had to do was repent your crimes."

"What crime?" she spat, and Mordred took a step back at her tone.

"Kara, please…"

"I only fight for my freedom," she replied, head held high.

"Arthur does not hunt the Druids anymore. You know this," he pleaded, though he knew it was for naught. He heard her, in the throne room. Morgana's poisonous words were rooted deep within her thoughts, no hope for redemption.

"And what of magic?" Kara challenged. "Even if I do not possess it, I cannot just sit idly by while our brethren are slaughtered without respite."

Mordred breathed deeply, feeling his own faith wavering. "Magic will one day return to Camelot, and all of Albion will be united."

"Yes," Kara agreed. "By Morgana."

He closed his eyes, the pain in his chest growing. Perhaps if he took her away, far away from Camelot and Morgana, where she would be safe until the evil had passed. But what, then, of Merlin? If he left now, then Arthur would be left alone to face the Disir. And Mordred wasn't sure he could convince them to spare Merlin's life on his own. But if he did go, then Kara would face execution, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Please," he whispered. "I do not wish to see you killed."

"Then don't," she answered simply, and when Mordred opened his eyes, her chin was raised in defiance, her intentions clear. He could free her. And then she'd bring him to Morgana, and he wasn't sure if he'd have the strength to resist her. Not with knowing he'd already betrayed Arthur. Not knowing that Emrys was dead, and he did nothing to try and save him.

"I can't betray Arthur, Kara," he told her, the pain in his chest growing.

"Can't or won't?"

He met her steely gaze and answered, "Both." She was silenced by this, face falling as she stepped away from the bars. Her face held betrayal, and Mordred nearly broke that it was aimed at him. "Please," he said. "There's still time. Repent your crimes to Arthur."

"You know that I can't do that," she muttered in reply, eyes hardening against his pleading face.

"Please. Just think about it." He wanted to say that he knew she'd make the right decision, but he wasn't sure she would. He wasn't even sure he knew what the right decision _was._

It pained him too much to remain, so with a whispered, "Goodbye Kara," -for no matter what happens tomorrow, he'd surely never see her again- he turned away and left, hands shaking and vision blurred by his tears. He raced back to his quarters, barely keeping his composure, and locked himself inside. And Kara's voice rang within his mind.

She was soft, at first, gently recalling the days when they were but children racing through the meadows, learning from the elders, playing and dancing and laughing from morn till night. But then she grew solemn, hardened, as she remembered too how they lived in constant fear, how they had to move camp every month, sometimes more. _"All because of the tyrant Uther, and his murderous son Arthur!"_

 _"Arthur is different than his father,"_ Mordred insisted, eyes shut tight as he sat huddled in the corner. _"He's the Once and Future King."_

 _"Surely you don't really believe that! If Emrys has deserted us, then why should the supposed Once and Future King be any different?"_

 _"Emrys hasn't deserted us…"_ Mordred tried to block all thoughts of Merlin, currently dying in Gaius' chambers, the last hope for Albion slowly being destroyed.

Mordred didn't sleep that night. Neither did Kara. Her voice drifted in and out of his consciousness, becoming increasingly more frightened as morning drew ever nearer. _"I don't want to die,"_ she admitted as the first rays of sunlight began to streak through Mordred's window. _"I'm scared, Mordred. This wasn't supposed to be the end."_ But still, she refused to back down from her actions, and it was all he could do not to race down to her right now and get her as far away from Camelot as possible.

 _She committed a crime, she must be punished._

 _It isn't fair. Morgana twisted her mind._

 _You've already tried everything you could._

 _But it wasn't enough._

 _She made her choice. And you know you've already made yours._

 _…Why did this have to happen?_

Mordred did not move from his corner when the guards came to take Kara away. He did not move when everyone gathered in the courtyard as she was led to her rope, nor when Arthur made his solemn speech to his people, regret in his eyes. But he still heard her scream, silent to all but him, echoing across his mind and all of Camelot. Her pained gasps, her kicking feet, until, finally, silence. The tears ran freely down Mordred's cheeks, pain and anger swelling up within him. His mirror shattered, a chair flew across the room, and the wooden beams of his bed splintered and cracked.

And then it was over. Kara was dead. The anger faded, leaving behind a hollowness in his chest that left him feeling alone and bitter. He wondered if he'd ever be able to face Arthur again. He wondered if his destiny was always doomed to be full of darkness and pain.

Mordred pulled his knees to his chest, like he did when he was a child and afraid, and closed his eyes. Sooner or later, he would have to face Arthur again. But for now, he sat huddled by himself, hating the silence but hoping it would never leave.

-0-

Arthur had begun to think he wasn't coming. He had started to think that he wasn't even in Camelot anymore. No one had seen him since yesterday afternoon. He hoped that Mordred hadn't run. He was a good knight, and a good friend. He'd hate to lose him over this, but he was young and impulsive and in love. Arthur worried.

With a heavy sigh, Arthur mounted his horse and prepared to leave. It looked like he was to go on this mission alone. He only hoped he'd be able to convince the Disir to spare Merlin. He wasn't sure he could handle his death, not now after everything else that's happened.

"Wait." The voice was soft, Arthur almost didn't hear it. But the clop of another's horse on cobblestone was notice enough when Mordred came up beside him, eyes heavy with dark bags that told of little sleep, but back straight and tall, shoulders wrapped in their fine Camelot red, and a sword strapped to his side. "I apologize for not coming sooner," he said, not quite able to meet Arthur's eyes.

"No," he replied. "I'm glad you decided to come."

This time, Mordred did look up, voice gaining strength when he said, "I don't want to lose another friend. I will help you in any way I can."

Arthur allowed a thin smile to tug at his lips. "Thank you Mordred." He kicked his horse, and together they rode out of Camelot and back towards the White Mountains, where the Disir waited upon the Triple Goddess' judgement.

They didn't speak while they rode, Mordred too deeply immersed in his thoughts, and Arthur still unsure on where he stood with the young knight. But when night fell and they were forced to make camp, Arthur could keep his silence no longer and asked, "What do you know of the Disir?"

Mordred paused his movements, stick held out from where he was poking at the fire. A moment passed before he started again, this time accompanied by a response. "The Disir are the highest and most sacred court of the Old Religion, the very mouthpiece of the Triple Goddess," he said. "Their sole task is to interpret her word."

"And this...Triple Goddess?" Arthur asked. "Who is she?"

"She has many names." A tiny, awed smile appeared on Mordred's lips as he said, "You have seen her. Or rather, you were in her presence. I'm not sure it one can truly 'see' the Triple Goddess."

"What?" Arthur exclaimed, eyes widened with surprise. "When was this?"

"At the Cauldron of Arianrhod," he replied. "When the Dolma called forward her great power in order to cure the queen of Morgana's evil. There, she is known as the White Goddess of the Cauldron. But she is one and the same."

"I...I didn't realize…" Arthur shook his head, amazed as he realized what truly happened that day with Guinevere and the Dolma. "Why is she called the Triple Goddess?" he asked next, for at first he thought it was because of the three Disir, but now he realized that this deity was much bigger than that.

"It is because of the way she is described as threefold," Mordred explained. "She has three forms: the Maiden Huntress, the Mother Goddess, and the Death Crone. They represent heaven, earth, and the underworld respectively."

"I see," Arthur said after a moment, thinking it over. "So it is really this goddess then, not the Disir, who I have to appease?"

Mordred nearly snorted at his way of putting it and nodded. "I suppose so. The Disir will surely ask for something, however. A test, of sorts. To see if you are worthy."

Arthur didn't seem to like the sound of that, but nodded. "Very well. Let us hope they do not find me lacking."

 _Yes,_ Mordred agreed, _for all of our sakes._

They retired after that, neither of them really able to sleep, but determined to get some rest anyway. Tomorrow was a big day.

-0-

Mordred felt awe and trepidation fill him as they stood at the mouth of the cave that led to the Disir. Solemnly, he drew his blade and set it carefully to the side, as well as the hunting knife he kept hidden in his boot. Arthur took note of his actions and said, "So this is truly a sacred place then."

"Of course. I left my weapons last time as well, though I doubt you noticed," he answered.

"Why did you not say anything?" Arthur asked, drawing his own blade and laying it in the grass.

"Gwaine convinced me to ride my horse backwards and you tried to get me to wear my breeches inside out. I felt that since I was still new, my word would not be taken seriously." And Merlin had already tried to warn them.

"As a knight, your word will always be considered," Arthur answered, frowning a little.

"But not Merlin's?" Mordred challenged, and his frown deepened.

Arthur didn't have an answer, so he simply entered the cave and Mordred followed him. The Disir looked as if they hadn't moved since they were there four days earlier, staffs in hand and hoods lowered over their eyes. Then they spoke, voices hardly more than a raspy whisper.

"Arthur Pendragon-"

"King of Camelot-"

"We have been expecting you."

Arthur lowered himself to one knee, head bowed in reverence and said, "My men and I behaved with arrogance and stupidity. We dishonoured this place and insulted your faith. I humbly beg your forgiveness." He paused, collecting himself, before continuing. "One amongst us, Merlin, may yet pay the ultimate price. I have come here to petition you for his life."

"Why should we help you?" one of them sneered.

"I ask not for myself, but for a young man whose only crime was to sacrifice himself for his king."

"The future holds much pain and suffering for you, Arthur Pendragon-"

"For you and your people."

"And now Emrys, he who is born of the Triple Goddess' own power, may be destroyed."

Arthur's brow crinkled in confusion. "I don't understand. Who is this 'Emrys?'"

Mordred stepped up then, before the Disir had a chance to respond, and said, "If I may, my lord." Arthur nodded to him, so he turned to the Disir, thinking over his words carefully, and said, "It is your own fault that Emrys' life now hangs in the balance. Had you not attacked King Arthur, injuring Merlin in the process, then he would not be in peril now. Surely, you cannot pass judgement over this when Arthur is not even to blame?"

Silence, then, "You speak wisely, young Druid."

"Arthur Pendragon will not be accused for what has become of Emrys-"

"But he _will_ be judged for his attack against the Old Religion."

They returned their attention to Arthur then, and the one on the right spoke first. "Great King-"

"If you wish to save all you hold dear-"

"If you wish to save your kingdom-"

"Embrace the Old Religion-

"Learn her ways-"

"Bow to the Goddess."

Arthur's face fell, years of prejudice and countless attacks by magic assaulting his memories. "You know I can't do that," he whispered solemnly.

"Consider carefully," one of them said. "For your decision holds the fate of all of Albion."

"Should Emrys fall-"

"Then so too will your kingdom."

"You have until dawn."

-0-

Arthur was angrily stabbing at the fire with a stick, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes hooded with uncertainty. Mordred watched him carefully, waiting for him to speak, wondering what he was going to say once he did.

Eventually, Arthur let out a frustrated huff and tossed his stick into the flame, sitting back running an agitated hand through his hair. "I don't get it," he said. "Who's this 'Emrys' guy they kept mentioning? I've never heard of him before in my life!" He frowned, then added, "Wait, no. Actually, I think I've heard Morgana say his name before. I've never paid any heed to it before, but…" He looked at Mordred and said, "You obviously know who he is. Care to explain?"

Mordred hesitated briefly before answering, "Emrys is a legendary figure known to my people. Born of magic itself, the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, our prophecies say that he will be the one to protect the Once and Future King. It makes sense that Morgana knows him. He is said to be the light to her darkness, destined to be her doom. And from what I understand, he is the reason why many of her plots have failed in the past. If he dies now, then there will be no one to oppose Morgana, and I doubt Camelot will stand much of a chance."

Arthur blinked, mouth opening once then closing again before he found his words. "You mean to say," he huffed in disbelief, "that there is an all-powerful sorcerer actively protecting me and all of Camelot?"

"Yes," Mordred answered simply. "And you may doubt his existence, but I know for absolute certainty that he has been guarding this kingdom for years now."

Arthur brought his hand to his brow and shook his head in disbelief. He gave a nervous chuckle, looking upwards, saying, "You must be joking."

"No."

"This is insane."

"A bit, yeah," Mordred agreed.

"Wait-" Arthur's brow furrowed once more into confusion as he asked, "How is his life in danger now? You said that it was the Disir's own fault, but what does that mean? How did this happen?"

"It's...hard to explain." Mordred was sure that he was going to figure it out now, but it seemed Arthur remained as oblivious as ever. "Emrys' fate is attached to your own. If the Triple Goddess judges you to be unworthy, then so too will his life be judged." _Sort-of,_ he added mentally, but that was the best he could do without outright lying.

"I...see," but Mordred doubted he truly did.

They sat in silence for a while, until Mordred could stand it no longer and asked the question that was truly on both their minds. "What will you do?"

"I don't know," Arthur admitted, a sigh on his lips. "Merlin may be a servant, but he is the truest friend I have. I would do anything to save him. But-" And here, he closed his eyes in remembrance, "I have seen what misery unfettered sorcery brings. It killed both my parents. It corrupted Morgana…" He trailed and looked at Mordred. "The Druids are a peaceful people, yet many of them have magic. So tell me, Mordred. What do you think of magic?"

Mordred thought carefully before answering, wondering if he should, perhaps, reveal that he has magic now. But with the sting of Kara's death so close at hand, he decided against it. Instead, he answered, "I often wonder why you offered to make me a knight. Yes, you've made peace with the Druids many years ago, but surely you must've known that my beliefs vary greatly from your own." He leaned forward, arms on his knees, and said, "I have seen magic do terrible things, and I have seen magic do wonderful things. I've seen it destroy lives, and make them anew." He pursed his lips and paused, wondering what to say that would make Arthur understand. "Do you remember what the Dolma said?" he asked after a moment. "What she told you to remember?"

Arthur nodded. "That there is no evil in sorcery. Only in the hearts of men."

Mordred nodded. "That is what I think of magic. It can be used for good, or it can be used for bad."

"And what of all the countless sorcerers who have attacked Camelot?" Arthur challenged. "What of all the lives that have been lost because of magic?"

Mordred sighed and looked down. "I do not mean any disrespect, but I think you should consider _why_ those sorcerers attacked. Before the Great Purge, there were not nearly so many magical enemies of Camelot. And for those that were out there, there was always a Court Sorcerer to protect against such attacks."

Arthur shook his head, a frown on his face. "How would you know?" he asked, desperate to maintain the truths he's known all his life. "You were not even born yet."

"Neither were you," he shot back. "The Great Purge started with your birth. How would you know if Camelot was truly being overrun by sorcery before then?"

Arthur grumbled something unintelligible and ran a hand through his hair. "This is all so very confusing," he sighed.

Mordred stared into the fire thoughtfully. "I won't deny that I am biased in this situation. But then, so are you. I cannot tell you what to do, and I've pushed you enough as it is. Tomorrow, you can only decide what you think is right."

"But how am I to choose between Merlin and what I believe?" Arthur demanded. "How can I destroy everything my father has worked for when the alternative is to let him die?"

Mordred looked at him solemnly and replied, "That is for you to decide, my lord." He turned to his bedroll after that, knowing he had to let Arthur think. It looked like they had another sleepless night ahead of them. And tomorrow determined the fate of Albion.

-0-

Mordred truly had no idea what Arthur had decided as they returned to the Disir in the morning. His heart pounded in his chest, so loud that it echoed in his ears and left his breaths coming up short. They were at a crossroads now; Mordred had no doubt that if Arthur chose against magic and Emrys died, then so too would his loyalty. He wasn't sure if he could ever return to Morgana, but there would be no place for him in Camelot should Arthur reject the Old Religion.

"You have returned," the Disir murmured.

"Is your decision made?"

Arthur glanced at Mordred then nodded. "I have considered your words and have realized that there is much I do not know about the Old Religion. My father forbid me from learning its ways, and for years I only knew the evil and darkness in magic. It is because of his prejudice that I have been blinded to the good that it can also bring." He took a deep breath and said, "I will end the persecution of magic, and welcome it back to Camelot. I must say that it will not be easy. Fear of magic is deeply rooted within my people. But no matter how long it takes, I will do it."

Beneath their hoods, Mordred thought he saw the Disir smile. His own lips were spread into a relieved grin, the pain from the last few days melting away when he realized that the one thing that he had dreamed of as a child was now happening. Arthur was going to bring magic back to Camelot. The Once and Future King was fulfilling his destiny.

"Arthur Pendragon-"

"You have chosen well."

"The fate of Albion is safe-"

"And in good hands."

"Go now. But be warned!"

"The Triple Goddess will not tolerate a second attack upon her children."

"Betray your promise-"

"And you and everything you love will be destroyed."

Arthur nodded, eyes widening slightly and no doubt in his mind that their threat was real. "I understand," he said, bowing his head slightly in reverence. He nodded to Mordred, and the pair left the cave, each letting out a relieved sigh upon reaching the open air. Pursing his lips, Arthur turned to the young knight and said, "Merlin _will_ be okay, right?"

"Yes," Mordred answered confidently, grin fading to a pleased smile. "The Disir wouldn't dare go back on their word. Besides, I don't think they really ever wanted to hurt him in the first place."

"Really," Arthur mused, a thoughtful look on his face. But he said no more, and they began their journey back to Camelot in silence. There was simply too much to think about, so much to plan, to do once they got back.

Mordred was consumed by his own thoughts of glee, a great weight lifted from his chest as he realized that he was _free._ He only wished that Kara hadn't been so bitter, so angry, that she might share this with him. He winced at the all-too-recent memory, but forced himself not to dwell too much on her. There would be a time for grieving, after knowing Emrys was safe, after Arthur returned magic to the land. Once things were different.

"Mordred," Arthur said after some time. It was late into the afternoon by this point, and they were making good time. If they hurried, they could make it back to Camelot by nightfall.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Do you have magic?"

Mordred froze, his blood turning to ice, and he had to force himself to breath. He reminded himself that Arthur was changing the laws, that it didn't really matter now. Unless, of course, he grew angry and betrayed at his lies…

"Not all Druids have magic, my lord," he answered, careful to keep his voice even.

"That's not what I asked," Arthur replied, pointedly keeping his gaze on the path before him, as if they were talking about nothing more than the weather. "Do _you_ have magic?"

He hesitated. Tightened his grip on his reins. Then, "Yes. Yes I do. But I have only used it once since you knighted me."

Arthur nodded, expression unreadable. "What did you use it for?" He sounded...curious. There was no accusation in his tone, just honest curiosity.

"A friend was having trouble...sleeping," he decided on. "I gave him an enchantment to help him rest."

"So Merlin knows you have magic then."

Mordred spluttered in surprise, taken aback by Arthur's deadpan. "What…"

"You think I didn't notice he wasn't getting any rest?" the king asked, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "He hid it well, but really, I'd have to be blind not to see it. Of course, I already knew he has this bad habit of not taking care of himself. He denied it up and down, and Gaius was no help either. And then, suddenly-" Arthur shrugged. "It stopped. I don't know what happened, I just figured that whatever was bothering him went away."

"So when I said that I had a friend who was having trouble sleeping you just assumed it was Merlin?" Mordred asked, baffled and a little amused.

"Yes, and I'm going to feel really foolish if it turns out I was wrong," Arthur informed him shortly. "But I know that Merlin's never had the same views as I had on magic, and you two seemed to of gotten rather close. It just seems to make sense that he knows."

"Yes, well, you guessed right," Mordred replied after a moment. "He always knew, ever since he saved me from the guards when I was a child. I really thought you knew as well, until you offered me a knighthood." Arthur frowned at that, and Mordred added, "Merlin did say you could be a bit oblivious."

"Well I wouldn't go so far as to say _that,"_ Arthur grumbled, but otherwise ignored Mordred's soft chuckle. They fell silent, and up ahead Camelot's high towers came into view as they reached the crest of the hill they climbed. It disappeared behind the treeline once more when they began their descent downwards, but Mordred was comforted to see how close they were.

It was another hour, perhaps, when Arthur spoke once more, one final matter pressing on his mind. "Mordred," he said. "That sorcerer you spoke of. Emrys. He'll reveal himself to me soon, I hope?"

Habit caused him to tense before he forced himself to relax once more. "I would imagine he would, once he knows that magic is legal."

Arthur frowned. "He does not trust me enough to tell me before that?" He sounded hurt, betrayed almost, as if he knew of the lies and secrets…

"My lord?" Mordred asked carefully. "Do you know who he is?"

He was silent for a moment, then said, "You are not the first to of called me the Once and Future King."

Mordred froze as realization dawned on him. "Oh."

"It seems I am correct in my assessment," Arthur concluded, nodding at his expression. Then he chuckled and shook his head. "I guess I _can_ be a bit oblivious." He shot Mordred a threatening glare and added, "And I will deny _ever_ saying that."

"Of course, sire." Mordred couldn't help the smile that twitched at his lips, and Arthur glared all the harder. Of course, that only made his smile grow ever larger. And even though Kara's death was still a constant pain in his chest, he thought he might be starting to forgive Arthur, just a little. Perhaps Merlin was right. Destiny wasn't as set in stone as he thought. And now the time of Albion was upon them.

* * *

 **So the entire inspiration for this story was a scene that I had played out in my head where Merlin has to reveal his magic for one reason or another and Mordred immediately jumps in to protect him and basically says that he was never really loyal to Arthur, just to Emrys. Obviously, this scene did not make it in to the final draft, and I think that just sums up what writing it like perfectly.**


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